


study buddies

by epiproctan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Finger Sucking, Galaxy Garrison, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 12:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10944819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epiproctan/pseuds/epiproctan
Summary: Lance has to get his grades up. Unfortunately, Shiro won’t let him trade sexual favors for an A in his class. Guess they’ve gotta do this the old-fashioned way: private tutoring in the library.





	study buddies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lemoninagin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoninagin/gifts).



> Happy birthday Lemon!! I hope your day is as awesome as you are. Which is a lot. Enjoy this fic and you have a great time this weekend! <3 
> 
> this is an au where they're all just chilling at the garrison. established shklance. shiro is an officer and teaches a class that lance and keith are in.

“Hey, Lance? What is this?”

There’s a single piece of paper thrust out in Lance’s direction, and the broad hand that holds it is attached to a man who’s frowning more than Lance is really comfortable with. Lance squints at it from across the small room, but even at this distance he can make out his own chickenscratch on it.

“Looks like my midterm assignment,” he says.

The frown deepens. “I meant, what are these answers.”

Of course it’s on a lazy Sunday afternoon, when Lance is most comfortable and least thinking about midterm assignments or schoolwork or anything past the perimeter of this bedframe really that Shiro has to ruin his perfectly good mood.

If not for that, it would’ve been fine to happily keep laying here in Shiro’s bed, completely naked, tucked up against the wall among all the pillows that he had dragged in to make this bed more sleepable. Keith is dozing off against his chest, softened and cooled by a recent orgasm, his bare skin warm where it presses against all the edges of Lance’s body. All in all a pretty ideal situation. It would only be made more so if Shiro would stop grading papers for once in his life and come cuddle, but instead he’s put his uniform back on and has been hunched over his desk and scribbling away with his pen.

Keith shifts, groaning groggily and turning his head more into Lance’s chest.

“You’re going to wake Keith,” Lance stage-whispers. Not just to avoid this conversation. Because he’s genuinely concerned about Keith’s sleeping habits. Really.

“Too late,” Keith mumbles into Lance’s sternum. “What’d you fuck up now.”

“Hey,” Lance says, but Shiro doesn’t give him a chance to make a comeback.

“Are you having trouble understanding the material, Lance?” he asks.

“Nah, I got it, it’s cool,” Lance replies. “I was just in a rush.”

Keith snorts, and Lance does not appreciate that. He thinks it’s a pretty dangerous thing for Keith to do when Lance’s leg is tucked between his thighs. Keith has always liked living on the edge though.

“In a rush,” Shiro replies flatly, looking at the paper again.

“Alright.” Lance pushes himself up into a sitting position despite Keith’s protests and grins. “How about I blow you and you just give me an A. Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

“You’ll blow him anyway,” Keith grumbles, sitting up too. He runs a hand through his hair to smooth it but it’s still sticking up where it laid against Lance’s body.

Shiro ignores Keith’s comment. “You know I can’t do that, Lance. Why do you think all this is prohibited in the first place?”

The broad gesture that Shiro makes towards the two cadets tangled up in his bed when he says “all this” is unnecessary. The implication is clear. All the sex, he means. The kisses. The goddamn hand holding. The flirting in the back of the library and the playing footsies under the table in the cafeteria. Anything between officers and cadets that even pushes the boundaries of strictly business.

“Lance,” Shiro says, and he sounds so disappointed it makes Lance wince. “I know you’ve been spending a lot of time working on your simulator scores lately, but I think it’s affecting your other other classes. You’re dangerously close to failing.”

“Well I’ve got to be doing better than Keith,” Lance says, crossing his arms.

“Don’t worry about that,” says Shiro. Keith, weirdly, doesn’t take the bait, just sits back against the pillows and watches Lance’s face.

Shiro sighs and sets the paper back down on his desk. “I wanted to avoid this, but do you need help, Lance?”

“Oh, like private tutoring?” Lance winks. “Please teach me, sir.”

Keith elbows him, and Lance squawks and shoves back, which quickly devolves into naked wrestling on the bed. When Shiro comes over to pull Keith off Lance his uniform pants aren’t doing a whole lot to hide what his thoughts were about that. It takes the bite out of his next words.

“I’m serious, Lance,” he says. “Meet me in the library at 6 o’clock Tuesday.”

“PM?” Lance asks.

Shiro gives him a look like he must know better. “AM.”

Lance groans and flops over, landing face-first in his pile of pillows.

* * *

 

“Why is _he_ here?”

The indignant exclamation echoes around the silent, empty library, and Keith winces.

“Can you even try not to be so loud this early in the morning, Lance?”

At least the early hours means that the library is empty of people who would find the act of Shiro putting a calming hand on Keith’s thigh to be inappropriate.

“He wanted to come,” Shiro explains as Lance plops down into the seat across the table from him and drops his books on its surface with a satisfying _thud_.

Lance glares at Keith, who looks surprisingly normal for 6 AM. “You slept in your uniform again last night, didn’t you?”

Keith bristles. “So? What’s it to you?”

“I don’t want my boyfriend smelling gross. Did you know you sweat one cup of water every night?” Lance says. “Can’t you invest in a pair of pajamas or something?”

“Why should I?” Keith crosses his arms and levels a look at Lance. “I thought you preferred me sleeping naked.”

“Alright, cadets,” Shiro breaks in. “That’s enough. Let’s get to work.”

With a sigh, Lance rests his chin on his hand and watches Shiro pull out a textbook. Study dates are better than studying on his own, but he’d rather be doing pretty much anything but studying right now. Sleeping, for one. His first class doesn’t start until 9. Having Keith suck his dick would be another good option but—

“Let’s start on page 132,” Shiro says. “I went through some of your recent assignments and it’s around here where the trouble seems to start.”

Lance opens his textbook and out of the corner of his eye notices that Keith doesn’t even have his textbook with him. He’s leaned all the way back, balancing precariously on the back two legs of his chair, staring at Lance silently. Lance makes a face at him but Keith just frowns impassively and jerks his chin towards the textbook. _Get to work_.

“Scan this section and let me know if there’s anything you’re having trouble understanding,” Shiro says.

Turning his attention from Keith to the book, Lance runs his eyes over the words. Not many of them make it through into his brain, especially knowing that Shiro is waiting to hear something from him, _especially_ especially with Keith’s eyes tracking his every move.

“Uh, nope,” Lance says, not really positive that that’s true at all. “I’m good on this.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Can you look at the questions on page 134 and answer them for me?”

Lance flips the pages and reads the questions over. This is all from the unit on tropospheric flight maneuvers, which is admittedly not his strong point. He’s getting better at it in the simulator, but the theory behind it all still eludes him a little bit. It’s not his fault that he can’t pay attention in lecture when it’s his boyfriend up there at the front of the room. The way Shiro’s uniform hugs tight over his broad shoulders draws Lance’s eyes right to them, and when he turns to write diagrams and equations on the board Lance can’t help but silently thank whoever designed his slacks to stretch neatly over the curve of his ass. How is he supposed to focus on anything coming out of Shiro’s mouth when it’s all said in that low, knowledgeable, commanding voice? Is it any wonder he’s not doing too well in class?

“Lance?” Shiro prods, and Lance realizes he’s spent too long thinking about Shiro’s broad chest and not enough time thinking about the questions in front of him.

“Yeah, I can answer these,” Lance replies automatically. He reads the first question again, this time out loud, quietly to himself under his breath. Then again. “Pfft, this is easy,” he tells Shiro, looking up. “Too easy, I can’t believe you’re making me do this—”

“Alright then, what’s the answer?” Keith asks, his fingertips tapping a staccato on the desktop.

“Well, _obviously_ —,” Lance squints down at the textbook, “—it’s…uh….”

The front two legs of Keith’s chair hit the ground with a _bang_. Lance jolts and looks up at him, but Keith is slipping out of his chair and dropping to the floor. He disappears under the table and Lance shoots Shiro a bewildered look until there are suddenly hands on his knees, wrenching them apart.

Oh. _Oh_. Those hands on his knees are now sliding up his thighs and now they’re shoving his uniform jacket up and now attacking the front of his uniform pants, unbuttoning the button and sliding down the zipper and pulling Lance’s rapidly hardening cock out of his underwear—

Lance makes the mistake of looking down just as Keith parts his lips to let the head of his cock rest on his tongue. From under the shadow of the table Keith is staring up at him with those big dark eyes, his bangs falling delicately across his face. He doesn’t bother to fuck around, he doesn’t stop to tease. He just sinks Lance deep into his mouth, and gives a hard suck.

White knuckles clutching the edge of the table, Lance glances around wildly. There’s no one in the library aside from them, as far as Lance can tell, but this is _still_ a library. A public one, open to all the faculty and students. Anyone could come in at any second. Lance’s heart thunders in his chest, and he meets Shiro’s gaze. He receives a shrug and an enigmatic half-grin for that.

“Keith,” Lance hisses. Or tries to, but it comes out more as a moan. Keith’s got the market cornered on quick sloppy blowjobs and he’s doing his sloppiest right now. His mouth is wet and hot and wonderful and despite the fact that Lance had been completely flaccid mere seconds ago he’s suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to sink his fingers into Keith’s hair and thrust.

When Keith gets his hand around Lance’s base and strokes in time with his mouth Lance knows he’s done for. He’s a goner. They’re in the library and Lance is studying but Keith’s going to have him coming in mere minutes. Lance’s breath stutters, his legs shake. Shiro watches him with sharp and knowing eyes and Lance can barely hold on, he’s close, he’s close, _he’s close_ ,

And then it’s gone. The pressure, the heat, the wetness, it’s gone. Lance’s eyes fly open (when did he close them?) and looks down, but Keith has disappeared and his cock just hangs out of the opening of his pants, hard and abandoned and lonely. On the other side of the table, Keith pops back up and sits in his chair.

“You can have the rest of that when you get this right,” Keith says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Jaw hanging open, body _aching_ , Lance looks between Keith and Shiro. Surely, _surely_ , Shiro won’t just let this happen. Surely Shiro is more mature than this. But Shiro’s eyes are on his textbook, and then he’s opening his mouth to say, “Alright, Lance, let’s take a look at the exercises at the bottom of the page.”

Lance groans and drops his head against the surface of the table.

“Why don’t you try these on your own for a bit,” Shiro continues, like Lance hadn’t reacted at all. “Then we’ll go over the answers.”

Lance raises his head just a little to glare at Keith. Those goddamn glistening lips. He’s leaning back in his chair again, completely nonchalant, as though he’d never been on his knees at all. Fuck Keith. But also _fuck_ Keith.

Lance will show him. Lance will do all these problems perfectly and then Keith will have to finish him off. No sweat. No problem. They’ll see who’s laughing.

Taking a deep breath to reorient himself, ignoring the way his head is fuzzy with the need for release and his unrelenting arousal, Lance takes a look at the questions. There are only three of them. He can get this over with in five minutes, probably. Then he can get his blowjob.

He flips his notebook open to a fresh page and picks up his pen. Question number one. Here he goes.

Lance hears something wet. He looks up.

Across the table Keith has pulled his chair in close to Shiro’s, and Shiro’s hand is on his jaw, angling him so that their lips align. The kiss is something slow and sweet, languid, tender. Their lips are parted and Lance can see the way Shiro sweeps his tongue through Keith’s mouth, how then Keith sucks on Shiro’s bottom lip and nibbles it. He gives it a playful tug before pulling away, and from that close proximity they grin at each other before their eyes drift closed again and they fall back in. Shiro’s hand shifts and slips into Keith’s hair. Keith’s hands, though, are creeping up the inside of Shiro’s jacket.

Ah. The worst-best part of having two boyfriends. You never need porn. It’s always happening right in front of you, even when you don’t want it to be.

He doesn’t notice how long he’s been staring, watching the slow creep of Keith’s hands up Shiro’s torso, until Keith’s eyes open to slivers and he gives Lance a sidelong glance. He pulls away from Shiro just enough to lean across the table and tap on Lance’s textbook twice. A clear reminder. Aching and on fire, Lance fumbles his pen.

He reads the first question twice, and then a third time when he realizes that only a smattering of the words actually registered. He gathers all his willpower towards puzzling the sentence out. It’s not _that_ hard. He might not be a whiz at this but he thinks he can probably make a stab at an answer. He poises his pen over the paper.

There’s a noise, deep and husky, from across the table. Lance’s head shoots up, his focus locking in on Shiro, from whom the moan obviously came. Keith is very clearly thumbing at his nipples under the stretched fabric of his uniform jacket.

“You know, it’s kinda hard to focus when you guys are doing that,” Lance says.

Keith breaks away to look at him. “Well if you finish what you’re doing you’re free to join us.”

Lance is going to die. Right here, right now, from the first case of terminal blue balls in medical history. He’ll do anything at this point to end his suffering.

Even answer a few textbook exercises.

He grits his teeth and leans in close to the textbook. Maybe if he focuses as hard as he possibly can he can block out the breathy little sounds Shiro is making against Keith’s neck. He presses the pen tip against the paper and begins scribbling out an answer. Does it matter if it’s perfect? Will he get an A for effort here or do they want complete sentences? He has to flip back through the pages to find the correct answer and it’s an agonizing few moments spent fruitlessly scanning the pages before he comes across something useful. Keith shifts into Shiro’s lap. Lance’s cock twitches.

By the time he’s got the whole answer down he feels unbearably hot. He unbuttons the top few buttons of his uniform jacket and uses the opportunity to take a peek at what Shiro and Keith are doing. Keith’s straddling Shiro’s thighs, both hands under his open jacket. Shiro’s broad palm is cupped at the curve of Keith’s ass, not bothering to hide how his fingers dig into it. From what Lance can tell Keith’s tongue is shoved far enough into Shiro’s mouth that he can probably taste his molars. It’d be gross to watch if Lance wasn’t really, really, _really_ into it.

Lance must make an unwitting sound in the back of his throat because suddenly two sets of eyes snap towards him. Both Keith and Shiro’s faces are flushed and Keith’s breathing seems to be a little accelerated. His gaze flashes down to Lance’s notebook, while Shiro scrutinizes Lance.

“Finished?” he asks.

“Not quite,” Lance squeaks, watching the way Shiro’s sturdy jawline moves when he speaks. Lance wants to lick it.

“Hurry up,” Keith says, and then grabs Shiro’s chin so he can pull them back together.

Oh, Lance will hurry up alright. Swallowing hard, he turns his attention to question number two. He’s a third of the way there. Surely the rest can’t be so bad.

Except he doesn’t know the answer to this one either. While he flips through the pages of the textbook he hears a rhythmic rustling that sounds suspiciously like it could be Keith grinding on Shiro’s lap. Lance knows he can’t afford to look up and check if this conjecture is true or not, though. If he looks up now he’ll get distracted again, by whatever they happen to be doing. If he ever wants Keith’s mouth on him again, he’s going to have to do this fast.

He scribbles out an answer, praying it makes sense. He doesn’t know if his handwriting is even legible at this point (and when he glances over his answer himself he can’t tell if that’s supposed to be a “d” or a weirdly-shaped “k”) but he just has to get this done as soon as possible. Before the throbbing ache in his lower body actually puts him in medical danger. Call 911. There’s a guy in the library who’s being burned alive.

Keith moans just as Lance puts the period on the end of his sentence, a warm and tempting little thing, and Lance can’t go on ignoring them. In the past few minutes, Shiro’s gotten one hand down the front of Keith’s pants, the other supporting his spine, pulling him close. Keith is arched in as Shiro sucks marks into the skin just under the collar of his uniform, his eyelids fluttering in something like breathless pleasure.

“Come on, really?” Lance asks, and reaches for his own cock instinctively. Precome beads at its tip.

Shiro removes his mouth from Keith’s neck with a wet suck, and levels Lance a hard look. “Finish your questions, Lance.”

The authoritative edge in his tone makes Lance shove both hands back on surface of the table. He whines, despairingly, painfully, and considers calling it quits, right here, right now. He could walk out of here and go jerk off in his own room. He could slam the textbook shut and decide that he’s finished with this.

But then he might never get that blowjob, or whatever else Shiro has planned for him. And that there, that’s something he’s very invested in at this point. Lance closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of the way Keith looks right now, stretched out and willing on Shiro’s lap. One more question.

It’s not that bad, this one. Except for the way he burns all over. Except for the way each sound from Keith and Shiro is like an electric jolt straight to his gut. Except for the way his fingers tremble as he tries to get a solid grip on the pen. He drops it as he tries to write the words. Not once, but twice, when Shiro sighs warm, when their chair creaks under their movements. Lance shifts in his seat, fidgeting, trying to get some kind of friction as he searches for the answer. Any kind of relief, any kind of reprieve.

“ _Done_!” he shouts, nearly bursting out of his chair, as he finishes writing his sentence.

Shiro pauses and looks over as though Lance has interrupted him from watching a mediocre TV show rather than sinking his teeth into Keith’s collarbone. He reaches with the hand that was in Keith’s underwear a matter of seconds ago and pulls Lance’s notebook towards him. His eyes dart over the words as Keith stills in his lap, and then, finally, he looks up with a smile.

“Not perfect, but I’ll take it,” Shiro says. “Good job, Lance.”

Keith is out of Shiro’s lap in a flash, but instead of ducking under the table again like Lance had hoped he would, he jerks his head towards Shiro and pats the top of his thighs. It’s a clear invitation for Lance to fill the spot he just vacated, and Lance doesn’t need to be asked twice. He bangs his hip on the corner of the table in his rush to get around it, but he’s too desperate to get up against Shiro’s body to care.

“No, not that way,” Keith says as Lance goes to clamber onto Shiro, chest-to-chest. “Turn around.”

“Since when are you in charge?” Lance asks, but Shiro’s hands are on his hips, manhandling him into spinning 180 degrees and sliding back onto his lap, so Lance lets it happen.

Keith’s response is to grab a small bottle out of his pocket and hand it to Shiro. Lance doesn’t have to see its label to know what it is and to feel a burst of annoyance. They were prepared for this, _dammit_. They knew this was going to happen. They’d planned on fucking Lance right here in the library all along.

Not that Lance is complaining, really, he decides as Shiro shimmies Lance’s pants off his legs. Keith kneels before him again and hoists one of Lance’s legs over his shoulder so Shiro can reach beneath it with recently-lubed fingers. Lance takes this opportunity to look around the library again. They’re pretty well-hidden here, tucked in the back, and it’s so early that not even the librarians have come in yet. Regardless, they’re in a public place.

Somehow, the thought makes Lance even more desperate. As Shiro traces around the outside of his hole, he bucks forward, hoping Keith will take pity on him and let him into his mouth.

He does, but not quite as much as Lance wants. Instead of the hurried, consuming way he took him entirely inside before, Keith only lets his lips envelop the head before pulling back off and licking a stripe up the underside of Lance’s cock. It’s just enough to keep Lance twitching, to keep his lower body on fire, as Shiro breaches him with an exploratory fingertip. It’s not enough, neither of those things. He needs more from both, especially after being kept waiting for so long.

At first he tries to let them know this by moving his body. He wriggles forward, bearing down on Shiro’s fingers. He gives light testing thrusts into Keith’s mouth, but that only results in Keith glaring up at him with those huge, pretty eyes and holding his hips down against Shiro. From there he goes slower, taking his time tasting every inch of Lance, lowering slowly onto him before rising back up. Lance moans, and Shiro painstakingly adds another finger.

Keith abruptly pops off of him and moves to stand, rearranging Lance’s leg so it’s propped up on the table as not to disturb Shiro’s actions. This is, presumably, so he can lean over Lance and kiss Shiro, but Lance’s cock feels cold and abandoned after the heat of Keith’s mouth.

“Keith,” Lance begs, even as Shiro drives deeper into him.

“Shh,” says Keith, breaking away from Shiro, “We’re in a library,” and unceremoniously stuffs three fingers into Lance’s mouth.

Lance almost gags on them at first, because outside of his interactions with Shiro Keith has never known the meaning of the word gentle in his life, but he quickly becomes accustomed to their presence and does what he does best: sucks.

“Good boy,” Keith murmurs in his ear as Lance circles his tongue tip around them, parts them with wet and unrefined movements. A thrill jolts straight down his spine at the words, evolving into an electric impulse in his groin. His hips buck instinctively, forcing Shiro’s fingers deeper into him. Shiro crooks them, spreads them, and Lance pants heavily against Keith’s intrusive fingertips.

“What’s Earth’s escape velocity, Lance?” Shiro asks.

It’s an easy question. They learned this on the first day of class. Maybe the second. But everything inside of Lance’s brain seems to be melting away. He can’t even figure out what Earth is right now, let alone how fast he would have to be going to get off of it. He’s already floating away from its surface as Keith takes his fingers out of his mouth so he can answer. That’s the speed it takes, really. How fast Shiro can bring him to the edge of his orgasm.

Lance moans.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Keith asks, and Shiro’s fingers slowly pull out of Lance. Feeling suddenly empty, Lance takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Maybe we should hit the books a bit more,” Shiro says.

“No, no, no, no, _no_ , _please_ —,” Lance groans.

“Did that sound like an answer to you, Shiro?” Keith asks. “It sure didn’t to me.”

“ _Shit_ ,” whines Lance as he tries to gasp for breath. He reaches, stretches for the answer. It comes to him in a painful flash. “Eleven!”

“Eleven what?” asks Shiro, as Keith says, “Eleven point…?”

Lance’s brain is fragmented and broken but he manages, “Eleven point one eight six kilometers per second now would you _please fuck me_.”

Shiro laughs, and pulls his fingers out of Lance. With both hands on Lance’s thighs, Shiro lifts him, and Lance desperate reaches under himself for Shiro’s cock, lining it up with his entrance. It’s a long, gradual, controlled sink onto him, guided by Shiro’s steady hands. Shiro’s big, and the ache presses deep inside of him, but Shiro just fucked him good the other day after all and Lance is _ready_. Lance barely waits until the pain has subsided slightly before trying to raise himself up and drive back down. Keith offers his arm for leverage, and Lance takes it.

They’re quick to work into a frenzied rhythm. It belatedly occurs to Lance that he isn’t the only one who’s been teased this whole time. Shiro’s been waiting for Lance to do his work too, and the groans from behind him as he fucks himself on Shiro’s cock are positively filthy. Keith uses his free hand to pull his own cock out of his pants and begins to stroke in time with Lance’s movements. Lance’s hand joins his, matching his speed, his pressure, until Keith lets his own hand fall away to allow Lance unobstructed access.

It won’t be too long now. Not when they’re already like this. Not when they’re already completely worked up. Lance still tries to drink it in. This is his reward after all, his prize for working so hard. Maybe if he gets his grades up, there will be lots more where this came from, is the unspoken promise. In the meantime he’ll enjoy just this: the stretch and bulk of Shiro’s cock inside of him slamming into him just where he needs it, the way Keith’s face scrunches up in pleasure as Lance twists his wrist just the way he knows Keith likes it.

He loses himself to it, his head lolling to the side, Shiro’s grip hard on his thighs and his panting humid on the back of his neck. Keith makes an otherworldly noise, something that’s got Lance’s legs trembling, makes him glad he’s got Shiro’s hands under him. The wet slaps of their skin against each other echoes throughout the bookshelves, barely audible to Lance over the sound of his own moans and panting breaths.

Keith’s cock jerks in his hand, and then suddenly it’s spilling hot and wet all over his fingers. And not just his fingers. Keith is close enough that it spurts out onto Lance’s face, and drips down all over his uniform jacket. Lance can’t find it in himself to care about it staining at this moment, too busy licking come from his lips, too busy making sure Keith’s totally finished as he heaves out a series of ragged breaths.

The sight of this, the sound of this, of Keith so beautifully reaching his end, has Lance dizzy and teetering. He forgets to move for a moment, but Shiro makes it up to him double, bucking up into him hard as he holds his hips still. The unrelenting thrusts slam into Lance in just the right way, and he suddenly finds himself leaning heavily forward into Keith’s arms as his orgasm rolls up his body in violent shocks of pleasure, overwhelming him as his eyes close and his mind blanks out.

He doesn’t realize that Shiro’s come too until he’s settled down from his high a bit and feels a wet heat leaking out from inside of him. He allows himself to rest on Keith for a long moment, regaining his breath, until he opens his eyes and climbs out of Shiro’s lap.

“Aw, man,” he says, looking down at himself. “Keith, this is gonna stain!”

Keith, who is already buttoning his pants back up, gives him a shrug. “You’re the one who left your jacket on.”

Grumbling under his breath, Lance stumbles back into his pants before marching off towards the library restroom, Shiro’s cum dripping down the inside of his thighs. Shiro jogs after him, then crowds him into a stall and gently wipes it from the cleft of his ass with damp toilet paper.

“Good job on those questions, Lance,” is what Shiro tells him as he does, even though the ache in Lance’s ass has already said that for him.

Lance only allows himself a moment to put on a self-satisfied grin before he heads to the sink to scrub furiously at his jacket while complaining to Shiro about Keith’s attitude.

When they make their way back to the table, Keith’s head is pillowed on his arms on the tabletop. He watches them, lazy, subdued. Despite his irritation right now Lance wants nothing more than to slide into his lap and rest his head on his shoulder. But Keith doesn’t move to make room for him, and as Shiro sits back down in his own chair, there’s something about his upright posture and alert expression that has Lance on guard.

“Okay, but now seriously, you two,” Shiro says, gesturing to the chair across the table and pulling his textbook closer. “Let’s get to studying.”

Lance groans.


End file.
